


Nevada Nights

by Sixth



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Frottage, Jealousy, M/M, Schmoop, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-19
Updated: 2015-05-19
Packaged: 2018-03-31 07:14:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,954
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3969125
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sixth/pseuds/Sixth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam is sixteen and Dean's eighteen (established relationship). they go to a bar and Dean gets flirty with a waitress and Sam sees. He gets jealous, and Dean shows him that Sam is the only one for him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nevada Nights

**Author's Note:**

> Unbeta'd. The prompt this is a reply to is the Fic Summary. Feedback adored! 
> 
> Tumblr: impala-oneninesixseven

What a bar called _The Blue Pelican_ is doing in the middle of the Mojave Desert region of Nevada, Sam can only hazard a guess. But they’ve painted the walls a bright, elementary-school blue, and there’s a stuffed pelican that’s been inexplicably dressed in a Hawaiian shirt and sunglasses sitting on the bar nursing the tip jar. Sam wonders if the pelican has always been there, or if the proprietors just got tired of being asked why the bar is called The Blue Pelican.

He doesn’t _actually_ give a shit about the reason, but it’s something to keep him distracted from the fact that his brother is in full-on, obnoxiously flirtatious mode with the waitress wearing shorts so tiny that Sam’s convinced they’d be more functional as a belt. Dean’s practically sprawled back against the bar with one thumb hooked into a belt loop on his jeans, flashing that tantalising line of skin by pulling the denim down just a fraction. _She doesn’t stand a chance, but at least **I** know how that skin tastes_ , Sam’s brain supplies spitefully. The girl is busy being lost in Dean’s mesmerising eyes, so when Dean glances Sam’s way, her own gaze follows. Sam must look more pissed than he realises, because Dean’s brow furrows in the way that means he’s silently asking if Sam’s okay. Sam belligerently rolls his eyes and looks away, dropping his chin into his hand with a huff. Dean’s at the table in a heartbeat. 

“What’s your problem?”

Dean drops himself down into the seat opposite Sam, head tilted to one side, eyebrow quirked. Something writhes uncomfortably in Sam’s belly and he fidgets. He doesn’t want to look at Dean in that moment. 

“Nothing.”

“Your mouth and your face don’t agree with one another then.” Dean replies, resting his elbow on the table. Beyond him, the waitress is looking thoroughly put out. Dean must have upped and abandoned her in the middle of a sentence. Wouldn’t be the first time.

“What do you care?” Sam retorts, well aware of how petulant he sounds and giving zero fucks about it. He jerks his head back in the girls’ direction. “Your _girlfriend_ is waitin’ for you.”

Dean just looks at Sam. “Have you always been this much of a jealous little asshole, or is this somethin’ new you’re tryin’ on for shits and giggles?” They both know the answer to that, and Dean takes the victory when Sam squirms uncomfortably. He does, however, also relent and explain himself.

“I was trying to score a free meal for the both of us, Sam. We’re kinda low on funds and I’m freakin’ out that I’m not getting you enough food; you’re getting so goddamn skinny. Not to mention that Dad is still in here somewhere and I gotta keep up some kind of appearance cause - hey. Look at me, man.” Dean ducks his head and tries to catch Sam’s gaze, which he keeps averting from his brother. Dean sighs and scoots his chair closer. He hates it when Sam’s like this in public, because he can’t just reach out and make Sam look at him.

“You don’t have anything to worry about.” Dean murmurs truthfully, willing Sam to just look at him. “Dude, I swear. It’s _you_ , Sammy. Okay? It’s always _been_ you, it’s always gonna _be_ you.”

That helps some, but rarely enough when Sam feels this way. He’s practically just waiting for Dean to wake up and remember that he can have anyone he wants; he doesn’t have to be stuck with his needy, selfish little brother who always wants all his attention. Hell, that girl can probably do all sorts of kinky shit, and here’s Sam, still inexperienced, still clumsy, and _still_ kisses with too much tongue.

“Sam.” Dean implores, letting a note of desperation bleed into his tone. It always works. Now is no exception, and Sam finally looks up. Dean reaches across the table and lets three fingers rest lightly on his brother’s arm, pitching his voice low. “I mean it. You’re all I want, Sammy… And if I gotta take you somewhere right here and now and _prove_ that to you…?” The elder Winchester trails off meaningfully, green eyes focussed intently on his brother.

Sam of course, is sixteen years old and gets hard whenever the wind blows the wrong way. So with his brother’s bedroom eyes trained on him and that whiskey and velvet voice sweeping over his skin, now it’s Sam’s turn to not stand a chance. He wants to demand Dean kisses him; right here, in front of everyone. But even the illogical, jealous part of him knows that can’t happen. 

“Then take me somewhere. Right here, right now. Prove it, Dean.” Sam’s voice is riddled with anxiety and insecurity, and he offers his face as a canvas to his emotions. It makes Dean’s heart splinter to see Sam so fearful about this – how can a kid this smart not know how tightly Dean’s wrapped around his little finger?

Wordlessly, Dean stands. He’s waiting on Sam now, and looks pointedly at the shaggy haired teen as though to emphasise this. Not five minutes later they’re in the shadows of the parking lot out by the Impala, and Sam can’t keep up with Dean’s fervour. His hands are _everywhere_ , rucking up Sam’s thin shirt before continuing on to thread through his hair; the other tugging impatiently at his belt. Sam can barely draw a breath with the way Dean’s devouring his mouth, and he’s never had his brother like this. Dean’s always passionate with him, but always treats Sam like he’s going to break.

Until now. 

“Dean,” Sam utters, but it’s little more than the press of tongue against teeth on the advent of an exhale of breath. Dean’s got him trapped between the steel of the car behind him and the steel of Dean’s cock in front. It’s taboo, it’s dangerous, and it’s delicious, and Sam doesn’t know if he’ll be able to go back to having Dean treat him so reverently after this. 

“S’you, Sammy.. S’always you, always…” Dean slurs against Sam’s lips, and his tongue is back in Sam’s mouth while he’s pulling his hips away so he can shuck off his flannel and they can both fumble with the fastenings on their jeans. Sam’s secretly pleased over electing not to wear underwear tonight - something he’s been doing more frequently in case there’s an off chance he and Dean might get ten minutes to fool around. It saves having to struggle through extra fabric like Dean’s currently having to do, and if the moan the blonde gives when Sam’s cock nudges his hand is anything to go by, he approves. 

Impatient, Sam hooks his fingers into the belt loops of Dean’s jeans to tug his brother’s hips flush against his own the moment Dean’s own length springs free; only this time it drives a moan out of the younger Winchester as the velvet of Dean’s cock touches his. A thick blurt of pre-come collects at the tip of Sam’s cockhead, and the first time Dean grinds up against Sam it smears all up and down their lengths. Sam’s always wet when he’s turned on like this and Dean loves it, loves capturing furtive moments to slip his hand into Sam’s pants when he knows his little brother is popping wood, just to swipe his finger over the tip and make Sam shudder. If he’s in a real mood, Dean’ll casually suck on his finger afterwards. And doesn’t that simple act do some _phenomenal_ things to the colours of Sam’s eyes.

But Dean can plan a slow burn of Sam’s arousal later, let it end in a resounding orgasm when he knows there’s no possibility of John walking up on them. Right now it’s about it being raw and primal; it’s about Sam needing to _feel_ it, feel needed, wanted and desired, right down to the marrow of his bones. And in the temperate Nevada night the brothers rut against each other, mouths crashing together in kisses that leave Dean’s lips pink and swollen before the two part again so Sam’s teeth can find his brother’s ears and then neck; spurred into leaving hickeys in his wake by Dean’s guttural groans of pleasure. A physical, visible claim to his older brother’s affections, and Dean understands that need. Plus it’s a damn sight easier for him to explain a couple of lovebites than it would be for Sam, but that’s kinda what got them into this mess in the first place. The necessity for Dean to keep up appearances by chasing tail. 

“S’mmy.. My Sammy…” 

“Nngh.. Dean..” 

Sam’s all but clinging to Dean at this point, because the amount of pleasure he’s gaining from this is almost incomprehensible. The feeling of his brother’s cock sliding along his own, and there’s friction but not _enough_ of it, and they’re both slick and hard and soft and it’s everything, and he doesn’t know what it feels like to come untouched but this must kinda feel like that, because he aches he needs it so bad, but he doesn’t wanna stop doing what they’re doing. When he looks down he can just see the glistening mess they’re making, and Dean follows his lead; resting his forehead against Sam’s. And watching themselves makes it even more of a guilty pleasure, because they’re getting off but they’re not touching with their hands, and that makes it somehow even more close and it’s intimate and --

“O-oh fuck, fuck, oh, fuck D-Dean!” 

It hits Sam like a freight train out of nowhere, and all he can do is clutch at his brother who at least had enough foresight to have removed his flannel earlier so it could be used just at this moment. Sam’s a spurter, and no matter what they did, it would’ve gotten somewhere visible. It probably still has. 

“That’s it, baby boy..” Dean praises, not in the least bit concerned about following after him because this is about _Sam_ , whose head is thrown back with the throes of pleasure. Dean brushes his lips against the pulse point in Sam’s throat; crooning softly and sweetly as the younger of the two slowly begins his descent from the peak of orgasm. When Sam has regained enough composure to not be completely boneless, Dean balls up his shirt and drops it by their feet. He’ll swipe it up when they’re all piling back in the car and shove it in the bottom of a bag. 

“Now.” Dean starts when Sam’s breathing has quieted, snaking his arms around his brother’s narrow waist and nuzzling into his cheek. Fucker is only sixteen and already edging on being taller than Dean. “Still feeling jealous? Cause I’m the one with the green eyes, here. Not you.” It’s a lame ass attempt at a joke, but it makes Sam smile. 

“I guess not.”

“You guess not?” Dean repeats incredulously, brows jumping up his forehead even though Sam can’t see them in the darkness. “Dude --” 

“Okay, okay! I’m not jealous!” Sam says through a chuckle. 

“Good. Cause I meant it, Sammy. You’re all I want. I love you.” 

“I’m sorry, what? Didn’t catch that last part.” Dean can hear Sam’s smug smirk, and he growls. 

“Bitch.”

“Jerk.” 

They finish getting zipped up and tidied up, and they’re heading back indoors to undoubtedly face John’s wrath over having disappeared. 

“You know I love you too, right Dean?”

“Course I do. You’re just a big girl. Besides. What’s not to love about me?” 

Sam rolls his eyes and leans in to nudge Dean with his shoulder. There’s nearly a scuffle when Dean tries to trip Sam up. 

They’re soulmates first. Brothers second.

Always.


End file.
